


Hiccup

by LindsayKisa



Series: Texts from the Last Full Moon [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayKisa/pseuds/LindsayKisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott raises his head, hair brushing her chin as he does.  “And you’re sure he’s not coming back any time soon?” Allison whispers with her eyebrows pinched upward. </p><p>“Positive”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiccup

**Author's Note:**

> And here comes the second installment!  
> [Reference Post](http://textsfromlastfullmoon.tumblr.com/post/31598965045/submitted-by-padamooseinthetardis)

“Ooh, lace”.

                Scott’s in the middle of pulling Allison’s camisole over her head when he drops the pile of fabric, preoccupied with admiring the swirls of the sheer, black fabric that decorate the mass of her bra. Small flowers litter their way around the edges, growing larger as his eyes move inward. They’re almost crossing by the time they reach a small, red bow between the cups, bright and crisp against her porcelain skin. The silk is neatly tied, the center forming a perfect-

“Scott”, Allison muffles out from beneath her top. Scott’s stares down at her clothed face, temporarily dazed, until he notices his mistake. Scott’s lips quiver into a smile and then they’re both laughing. Allison’s chest heaves as she giggles and sits up to pull either of their shirts off. Scott’s hands lightly brush over her fingers as he grabs them from her, tossing them onto carpet blindly. He mutters a breathy “sorry” against Allison’s lips as he dips down to kiss her. It’s slow and sultry, and everything he has ever needed. Her lips are soft and wet, with just the tiniest bit of colored gloss smeared on top, rose pink.

                Allison’s fingers run down his sides cool to the touch, as his slither behind her back to unhook her bra. After lifting her arms to shrug it off, her bra joins their shirts on the ground. Nails scrape downward, over his ribs and hips teasingly before sliding down his jean-clad thighs and grabbing hold. Scott’s pressing small butterfly kisses to her chest when a pair of delicate hands finds his waistband, tugging lightly on the belt loops.

Scott raises his head, hair brushing her chin as he does.  “And you’re sure he’s not coming back any time soon?” Allison whispers with her eyebrows pinched upward.

“Positive”.

                Upon graduating high school, Stiles and Scott spent two months bumming around either of their houses gaming, eating, and cramming in as many pool related escapades as they physically could. Then they moved up and out to college.  Naturally the two of them shacked up together, shoving every console, poster, and mythological bestiary they could into their closet sized dorm room. It was great-just the two of them, hanging out nearly 24/7, totally and completely accustomed to one another’s habits and faults. Every night was a sleep over and every day was a bro’s day out. But there was one hiccup-

“EYYY MACARENA!”

                Stiles burst into the room with a line of drag queens trailing behind him and a pair of acrylic nails firmly gripping onto his hips.  They continued singing and dancing as they moved further into the room, flooding the tiny space with body heat and chatter. Scott’s pants were pulled down to his knees and his underwear sat halfway down his ass, exposing a bit more than he would have liked. Allison’s grip on the elastic loosens as she tilts her head over towards Stiles who is talk-singing mere feet from them.

                 “C’mon guys, dance!”

                That hiccup? Stiles seemed to be particularly fond of bursting into their room, queens and friends alike trailing behind him, and initiating the most inappropriately timed dance parties.              

                This wasn’t the first time, either. 


End file.
